


Terraformation

by gaialux



Category: Oz (TV), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5774980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The walkers are here...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terraformation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for nindevotee as part of the 2015 Oz Magi.

Schillinger’s acting more fucked up than usual. Ryan’s been watching him from their respective pods since light’s out. At first Schillinger seems to sleep but then, within ten minutes, he’s up and walking and slamming his head against the pod’s plastic wall.  
  
Fucking idiot. What’s he up to this time? Maybe the Aryans had finally relaxed their rules enough to get drugs pumping through their system. Ryan could get down with that -- another set of clientele.  
  
Well, at least that’s what Ryan thinks is plausible until Schillinger’s pod suddenly shatters.  
  
The lockdown sounds immediately and a gunshot rings out.  
  
::

 _To terr_ _aform is to transform so as to resemble earth - to allow human habitation._  
  
And that, dear readers, is exactly what begins to happen.  
  
::  
  
After three months, people more or less fall into their own version of routine. There were five of them left -- Toby, Chris, Ryan, Gloria, and Miguel. At least those are there survivors in Em City; it become a near unanimous agreement that exploring the rest of the prison was a bad idea. Only Gloria protested, but Ryan quickly shut that down by saying he couldn’t stand to lose her --  
  
“Cyril’s already gone. Do I really have to lose you, too?”  
  
\-- and she stays, tending to those who were alive but hurt until they, too, succumbed to whatever _this_ was. Or made a run for it. It was a near fifty-fifty.  
  
“Zombies,” Chris had already decided and told Toby late one night. “We’re a real Dawn of the fucking Dead up here.”  
  
::  
  
They appear without warning. The gates to Em City opening without the traditional buzzer (which had honestly been forgotten -- three months were three years inside the slammer).  
  
Then: “Hello?”  
  
Chris reacts first. Jumping up from his game of chess and grabbing at the gun he’s kept firmly strapped to his leg. Even Toby isn’t allowed to touch it without Chris’ say-so. It’s the only gun they could find, and now it’s being pointed between the eyes of a scruffy looking man. Behind him are several other people of varying ages and gender.  
  
“Wait.” The stranger holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Chris doesn’t move the gun. By now, the others have all crowded around him. “I’m Rick -- we’re here from Atlanta.”  
  
“The fuck you doing all the way in New York City?” Ryan asks. There’s venom in his voice. He’s itching for the gun. Gloria’s hand encircles his arm, steadies him.  
  
“Trying to find safety,” Rick says. He sounds exhausted, defeated.  
  
“Drop the weapons,” Chris says. He points at Rick, then another guy with long and filthy hair holding a crossbow. “All of ‘em. If we find any, you’re dead.”  
  
“Rick--” Long-hair says.  
  
Chris turns his gun to him. “You too, Robin Hood.”  
  
“Daryl,” Rick says softly. “He’s Daryl.”  
  
Then he rattles off more names as guns and a crossbow are placed on the ground. Chris says, again, that they better all be dropped or it’s Red Queen time and off with their heads.  
  
Only then does Chris lower his gun and direct them to three corner pods. They will be constantly observed.  
  
::  
  
Toby is on ‘The Only People Who Would Break _Into_ A Prison’ duty.  
  
Which, simply put, means playing checkers with Chris while keeping on eye on the three occupied pods. He doesn’t know why they don’t try to run -- maybe there’s something to be said about safety and routine.  
  
Two of the people -- Daryl and an older woman with short, grey hair. Carol, Toby things he remembers her name as -- are sitting close. Toby watches her tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. If Toby tried that with Chris, he’d be met with a firm smack in the mouth. But at least Chris hadn’t left him since the world fell to shit.  
  
Small blessings and all that.  
  
::  
  
They soon learn to assimilate. To take their weapons back. To know Chris won’t suddenly turn around and pull the trigger with his own pistol that still remains close.  
  
It’s a kind of stilted, paranoid harmony; but harmony nonetheless. Maybe some will leave to move on, maybe all will. But, for now, it’s okay.  
  
For now there is hope.


End file.
